Heart and Seek
by Mr Slater
Summary: When Demyx finds a mysterious person in an abandoned shop in Traverse Town, he finds the truth behind his lack of heart tested. Has he found an equal? However, he finds his loyalties tested to the Organization tested when Luxord begins asking questions...
1. The Intruder

**This is my first real fanfic. Please inform me on what you think via reviews.**

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It was cool. I could feel it in my spine, as I silently tiptoed down the streets, and the biting wind dried my tears. I quite enjoyed being alone: it meant I could shiver without eyes rolling or being nagged. Some Heartless sprang forward from the nooks and crannies from the abandoned streets of The Second District, every now and then, but they were easy to ignore: they sniffed me, but let me be. Like Xemnas, they didn't think I had a heart. Whether or not they were wrong was irrelevant. I was safe.

Walking past a boutique, I caught sight of myself in a dusty mirror past the filthy window. I had dirty blond hair in a vivid Mohawk, but my blue eyes were too far away to see. I was pretty skinny, and my robes hung off my torso. My spunky grin was arranged as normal, but it vanished quickly.

Suddenly, I clutched my heart in shock as I heard a splintering crack from inside. Why? Surely Heartless didn't need to break down the door to get into a place, right? And why would they try to break into an expensive clothing shop? Telling myself to be serious (an image of a Heartless soldier in a cashmere pullover floated around my head), I summoned a dark portal, the way Axel taught me to do it, and stepped through. I'd done it right! I was on the other side of the dirty, once red-painted door. I could have smashed it down, but whatever was inside might have heard me… At this point, I wondered exactly why I was checking what that noise was? It wasn't my mission, and if I tried to explain to "Numero Uno" that I was curious… well… we Nobodies "aren't supposed to feel" are we?

I silently looked around the shady room, as I formed my massive sitar from moisture in the air. The lamps were off, but several candles were dripping wax, lighted, left on a huge mahogany bureau, and also a couple left on the wooden floorboards. I had to restrain myself from putting the blatant fire-hazards out, because this would obviously give myself away.

Gently, I crept forward, scowling as my heavy, black boots made a nasty loud squealing noise on the floorboards next to one of the clothes-racks. I'd heard the noise out back, so, careful to tread on the rug to avoid further noise, I climbed onto and over the counter, and through the door at the edge of the dingy, dirty, shop.

It had been abandoned ever since the Heartless came to Traverse Town, as they had overrun the Second and Third District, the overcrowded First District being the only safe refuge. Well: that cranky old crone was still living in that weird waterway in the Third District, but other than that, zip.

I jumped again, as I heard a banging and shaking upstairs. It sounded violent, whatever was happening, so, wrought apart with curiosity, but terrified, I pulled up another of the portals, and vanished upstairs.

I was at the top of the winding spiral staircase. There was a very small corridor, with three doors just ahead of me, and, slinking as quietly as my revoltingly shiny, clunky boots could allow. The sounds were coming from behind the probably cream (difficult to tell in this light) door.

Biting my lip until I could taste the blood on tongue, I gingerly reached out with a gloved hand and stretched my fingertips, pushing the door slowly, so slowly ajar.

Still nothing visible.

In one, probably stupid, move, I kicked the door with my boots, and flicked the light inside the room, as I gazed around.


	2. Mr Slater

The door swung open with an unhealthy creak and angle, and this is when I noticed one of the hinges were broken, and my kick cracked the other, and the door fell to the floor. Some covert operation. The noisemaker was clearly not a Heartless. But was turning round to look at me, startled by the sudden light.

It was only here I realized the simple idiocy of my actions. Was there no rational explanation I could have foreseen? Maybe this guy owned the shop? Or was a thief? It didn't even matter. It's not like the Organization would care. But then, I thought with a pang, they never did, did they? Suddenly, I spotted that I was staring at him, and he back.

He had a handsome face, and slightly spiked hair, just recognizable as brown. He was dressed in formal stuff, but they looked almost casual on him, and he couldn't have been older than thirty. He was taller and of a stronger build than I, dressed in a crisp white dress shirt, a pinstripe waistcoat, business trousers and attention-gripping glossy black dress shoes that shimmered in the light. I felt a slight thud in my chest somewhere, and was pulled upward in my stature slightly. I didn't even need to look in a mirror to see that a dozy grin had plastered itself across my face, but a mirror on the dressing table confirmed my shrewd suspicions nonetheless.

"Who are you?" He asked, quietly, not faulting in his glare. I responded instantly, and was appalled with myself to realize that I'd told him my name.

"I'm Demyx. And you?"

"My name is Mr Slater. What are you doing here?" I'd caught on, this time, and replied, sharp as a fox.

"I could ask you the same."

"Indeed you could. Touché. But I really wouldn't advise it." His voice was deep and cold, and, although my vague smile was still persisting itself on my mouth, the old peepers were vaguely aware of his gun. It suited him, with its long barrel and slender frame, as shiny as the handsome mans' shoes. Deadly, as well as beautiful…

What was I thinking? The gun was pointed at me, and his eyes were glaring in the same direction, a look of pure miscomprehension of my apparent idiocy visible over his striking features, his head shaking slightly. Getting the hint, I raised my hands slowly into the musty air of the run-down room.

"I'm going to repeat this once: What are you doing here?" The thudding was still in my heart, and at least some of it was fear. As such, I rapidly stuttered out my answer.

"I h-heard a disturbance."

"Why in the Town?" This next question couldn't be answered truthfully without committing 'treason' against the Organization. I stayed quiet, and this only incriminated myself further.

"Tell me." hissed the man. He didn't move himself, or the gun, but any warmth in his voice was now the absolute zero of vocal intonations. I didn't like being spoken to like this. Xigbar had always taught me to keep a stiff upper lip, but all of his kind words and cheeky advice all counted for nothing, now. I could feel a slight tear rolling down my cheek, but I quickly tried to absorb the water back into my skin, lest I showed weakness. But Slater'd already noticed. He'd struck me as the sharp type, and I was expecting Xemnas-like wrath, and closed my eyes for the worst.

It didn't come.

"Fine…" he murmured, his voice warmer again. "You don't have to tell me just yet." I nodded slowly, and watched his nose wrinkle slightly at my loud, snotty sniff. "Hey… those are funny clothes for someone your age, aren't they?"

Rubbing my eyes, I agreed. "Yeah. The boss makes us wear 'em." What had I said? His deep stone grey eyes had widened, and he was nodding with understanding.

"You're with the Organization." It wasn't a mean question, or even a question at all. "What rank?"

I didn't answer.

"Okay… Are you going to run away from me if I put the gun down?" He asked, softly. He was different to anyone else. He knew I was part of the Organization, and that I was a Nobody, and yet he wasn't treating me like the scum humans and my own kin would normally. That's probably the only reason I stayed, and shook my head, dumbly. I couldn't draw my blue eyes from his grey. I couldn't see behind them.

I couldn't tell what they were thinking, and still held his gaze as I moved over to the burgundy bed, and slumped upon it. He chose the still ornamental, despite its age, armchair in front of the dressing table. I wasn't surprised by his choice, and couldn't help but parrot his seating, with one booted foot resting on my thigh, and whilst his unblinking eyes stared at my face, I couldn't draw my own vision from his shiny shoes, still oddly silent. He broke the stillness.

"Why'd you join the Organization?" He asked, settling back in his chair, turning his head to the ceiling. It took me a few moments to separate his delicate words from the winding mulch of my own thoughts, and then to understand them.

"I dunno." I thought back, not realizing that I too was looking at the cobwebbed ceiling, leaning back, resting on my elbows and with my left leg crossed over the right knee, just like my new friend. "Well… when I first emerged as a Nobody, The Superior greeted me. Coldly. He told me I didn't have a Heart, as if. He told me I'd get it back if I joined Organization Eight, and he scared me, so I did, and it became nine. Now, it's ten."

"I know…" murmured Mr Slater, tapping a steady rhythm on his left shin with his fingers. Soon after I noticed, so was I.

"And you?" I asked tentatively. Last time I'd asked, he hadn't exactly been very keen to tell me.

"I'm in between…" He said, slowly. I was excited, because that meant-

"You're a Nobody?"

"No. Not quite. I'm between a Nobody and a person." I was confused, but, together, we continued to tap out the same gentle beat as before.

"That's possible?" I asked, more than curious.

"Evidently." snapped Slater. I couldn't understand why he was annoyed, but I kept schtum, until he'd cooled. It didn't take that long.

"I have to go, Demyx." My heart skipped a beat.

"Why?"

"Busy, busy, and busy." came the haughty reply, as he pulled himself up from the chair. I stood up, too. We were both standing with our hands held behind our backs.

"Will we talk again?" I asked him. I still don't know why.

"We might…" He hinted, winking. I saw where this was going.

"Are we likely to meet tomorrow?"

"That seems likely… I think I could use another sit in that armchair…" He chuckled, and pulled up a shadowy portal, identical to mine. We stepped into our own, and were apart. That feeling in my heart… it was proof I had one, right? But it was gone…


	3. Home is Where the Heart Is?

I stepped from the portal, into the vast halls of Castle Oblivion. There were thirteen floors above ground, and twelve below. Each floor was a massive hall, and there in front of me was my inferior by one level. Not that you'd guess. Luxord, number ten, was a vivid refined blond, with a designer moustache and many silver ear-piercings. He was the lord of Castle Oblivion, and despite his stance in the Organization, currently my boss.

"Well?" he asked, bluntly, in his deep British accent.

"Well?" I still hadn't forgotten the conversation he, Vexen, The Superior and I had had. And I wasn't in a forgiving mood; even if there was the remotest chance he was apologetic.

"Did you kill the Guard Armour?" he enquired, though he already knew the answer.

"No…" My mind hadn't been on the large Heartless this evening. And it wasn't now. Images of handsome brown-haired men with expensive dress shoes and pinstripe waistcoats flitted through the jumble of my mind, taunting the feeble thoughts as they tried to come up with an excuse better than-

"I couldn't find it."

"I** told** you I should have gone, too…" There were so many things I should have said. And shouted in his face. But I didn't. Instead, I hung my head, and apologized feebly. He simply shrugged, irate, and went about his way. I wanted to return to the boutique in Traverse Town now. I knew Mr Slater wouldn't be there, but I wanted to go just in case.

I returned to The World That Never Was. I was tired. I was sleepy. I had memories in my head that I wanted to forget, and memories in my head I wished were still real. Wrought by misery and an inexplicable desire, I headed up the slope to Proof of Existence, and touched my door. This was the only way into our private rooms, and none could get to mine without my permission. The door itself vanished, and what was left was a gaping hole into physical nothingness, that only I could pass.

I liked my room, which I appeared into. The walls were a royal blue and light blue drapes. I had a pond, on which floated stilly a waterbed. I leapt over the wet onto the bed, and threw my Organization Robe over my shoulder, not caring. Underneath, as was uniform, we wore black dress shirts, trousers, and heavy, shiny boots. I pulled my belt off, and tried to pull off my trousers, my mind still full of what would be waiting in the boutique in just a few hours time. I still had my boots on, and not able to kick them off, I simply left them, my trousers halfway down my legs with checked boxers protecting my manhood. My shirt was still buttoned, and I simply was too tired to fumble with the little black bits of plastic.

There I lay, unable to feel myself for my thick clothes, my mouth hanging open lightly, my eyes flickering open and closed, open and closed, until my world was gripped by a lightless shadow named sleep…

My dreams were against me, too. They replayed the unpleasant conversation he'd had with a few of his colleagues a few hours before…

_The four of them were sitting on their designated huge chairs, many, many metres from the floor of the hall of the World That Never Was. Three still had their hoods up, but the most familiar face with the Mohawk was clear to see._

_"Number nine," came the booming voice of the leader. The blond musician shuddered, and looked up at his boss. There was no spunky grin on the ashen face. "You have been neglecting your duties."_

_"I haven't!" Insisted the accused._

_One of the hooded men, with the deep British voice, laughed, and added; cruelly "You have produced next to no work in my charge at Castle Oblivion, regarding the study of memories."_

_"Why are we studying memories?" cried the frustrated youth._

_The only other figure yet to speak broke his silence. "So we can remember what it was like to have hearts, nine."_

_"I have a heart!"_

_"YOU DO NOT!" this was the leader. Everybody's head snapped toward the robed shouter, whom's voice filled the hall, and the ears of everybody in the hall. The man closest to the youngest sounded irate, and was the leader's auxiliary in misery. Within his dream, I remembered how friendly the Mohawked man and the current speaker once were._

_"I am sick and tired of this, boy, when you protest that you have a heart. You are a Nobody. You exist, but never were meant to. You cannot love, nor feel joy, and are little but a shell, containing naught but void and hate. This is how things shall remain until you help use produce some hearts! You go with myself, tonight, to find a large Heartless in Traverse Town."_

_Tears were streaking down the non-hooded face rapidly, and whilst the quietest member chuckled to himself, the boy said in a feeble voice. "I don't want to go with you."_

_"Then go alone. Now." The leader had spoken, and the tearful blond vanished into a portal._


	4. Wasting Time

Slowly, my eyes pulled themselves open. Very slowly.

For a few minutes, I tried to pretend they weren't, but they weren't having any of it, and, reluctantly I wiped sleepy bits from the old eyelids, and struggled to stand up. This, I soon realized, was because I still had my trousers at my knees, and I was almost still completely dressed. I wobbled around on the bed, trying to pull off the trousers, boots, belt and shirt all at the same time, but I tumbled from the bed into the shallow ornamental pond beneath.

It took quite a while to sort myself out, actually. For a start, I had to climb from the pool sans breath and with my legs effectively tied together. After a few minutes of struggling with the rounded bottom of the pool, I finally climbed to the surface, drenched. Pulling off my drenched clothes, I thought about yesterday. For the first time, I truly questioned who the enigmatic Mr Slater was.

He'd not told me anything, at all, and scrubbing myself with a salmon-coloured towel (I couldn't absorb that much water), I 'pooled' together what I new about his life. It didn't take long. I didn't know anything for real, and yet the more I thought, the less important 'who' became, and the 'when' took a greater priority.

I pulled on another pair of briefs from my drawers, tossing my wet clothes onto the heater at the side of my room. The dress shirt and trousers followed, and I made a special effort to find two black socks, rather than shoving on any old pair (yesterday was a blue and black stripy and an old red and black rugby sock I have for reasons beyond my comprehension).

I soon came to realize that somewhere between having only one pair of black leather water-absorbent boots and a bed suspended in a pool, I'd made fatal error. I left them by the radiator, and did what I could to draw the water out of them, but all to no avail.

I was forced to ask Axel, my only other friend in the Organization, since the incident yesterday, whether he could heat up my boots, or otherwise lend me his, but dropped the subject quick smart when he asked me why I wanted them, and insisted he knew beforehand. Stupid redhead.

In the end, I resigned, and slipped my nicely matching socked feet into damp boots, and felt the cold instantly bite into them. I'd no other option, and so grabbed my coat, zipped up, and used a portal to return to Castle Oblivion, where Luxord, Vexen, Zexion and Lexaeus were waiting to fill me in on my missions of the day.

This time, Luxord insisted on coming with me to Traverse Town. I wished I'd gone on my own again, to check the meeting place, but without telling them my motive, I'd find it difficult to convince them. And the last thing I'd want would be for The Superior to know, and my current companions weren't exactly up to the task of keeping my secret.

The atmosphere was so frigid: Luxord and I, patrolling the streets of the Town in search of this legendary Guard Armour. We didn't chat. Short sentences were the only communication. This was dangerous for me. Every so often, I had to quickly conjure a lie when a question like this cropped up:

"Where did you search yesterday?"

"Uhh… you know, all over. I didn't go into the nooks and crannies, 'cause… uhh… I'm not sure where they are."

We searched for over an hour. No Guard Armour. However, Luxord's suggestion that we search the houses and shops just in case was a brilliantly ironic monument to my heart. Fear and excitement fused together. I don't know what I was experiencing, but it was better and worse than getting trapped by trousers at the bottom of shallow pools at the same time.

Immediately, doing my best to suppress enthusiasm, I said

"Fine, split up. You check the hotel, and I'll check the high street."

A non-committal noise behind me sounded fairly affirmative, and so, keeping the apprehensive spring in my step that was nothing to do with keeping damp feet warm to a minimum, I half stomped, half skipped over to the boutique.

I searched every nook and cranny. 'Not knowing where they were' couldn't be an excuse this time, and, in the bedroom, I found exactly what I was looking for: a pristine lined paper note in perfect loopy handwriting, left upon the dressing table.

"_Same time as last night, nine._" Squealing with quiet delight, I felt the grin deflated by Luxord growing again, and took the note, shoving it inside my pocket. I then grabbed the biro and bit of scrap paper, and did my best to imitate his beautiful penmanship with his letter to try to leave a good impression. Somehow, I didn't think Mr Slater would appreciate the artfulness in my trademark blotchy scrawl.

_"Sure thing, Mister."_

For the rest of the search of the houses and shops (which I faked, throwing cushions a bit and getting wet boot-prints over things to give Luxord the hint if he came sniffing around after me.) I couldn't help but watch seconds tick away till eight o'clock. By now, I only had five hours.

Luxord was still searching valiantly, ripping apart houses with a pair of huge evidently razor-sharp playing cards. I snuck up on him with a portal.

"Maybe I was right? That I couldn't actually find it?" No comment. So I carried on watching. After a while (half an hour), he eventually gave up, much to my amusement. However, he'd already got his guise ready: an eleventh member was found, courtesy of Zexion.

We returned to the World that Never Was again, and much to my increased elation, my boots had dried, even if my toes were still freezing. Since I'd been up, I'd been wondering about Mr Slater, and what he thought. Things like wet boots and my handwriting clearly weren't his style.

The initiation was held in the usual seated hall, and the circular set of chairs had been all stretched apart slightly to make room for member eleven. We were all hooded but he, though at first glance, you'd imagine 'she'. He had vividly pink layered shoulder-length hair, and a coy smirk fit upon his face. If he was worried, he didn't show it: he looked more proud to be invited into the coolest of gangs.

I was glad for the hood. With my face covered, I was able to space out and ignore the blather spewed by the upper members, leaving time to think on more important matters.

At the end of it, I quickly picked up from Axel that the new guy was called 'Marluxia' and wielded the element of 'flowers'. After the obligatory joke over the 'weedy' choice of fighting style, I had the rest of the day free. There was much deliberation over what to do in my final half hour before the appointed meeting. I considered telling Axel, but he was a bit of an odd duck. He was very fickle, and if I gave him a reason to spite me, he'd take it.

In the end, I spruced myself in my room, and used a portal to go to the boutique fifteen minutes early. I sat down on the bed, after checking my note had gone, and watched the seconds tick away again.


	5. Hook, Line, and Sinker

I was slumped on the bed. Panicking. When was he going to get here? Was he going to even come? What would happen if he did come? I took in the room, for the first time, ever. Before, Mr Slater or his letter distracted me, and now I could tell I was standing in an elaborately furnished bedroom. However, things were dusty, and the corners of the room were clogged up with cobwebs. I eyed one warily: I hated spiders. The room looked like it belonged to a woman with its expensive trinkets and dressing table, but the open wardrobe that Mr Slater had been searching through when I caught him with its men's clothing told a different tale. The general theme for the room was a burgundy maroon, and the bedspread upon which I lay was no different, if you got past the thick grey coat of heavens knows what.

Suddenly I heard a creak, and sitting up, and pulling my foot over onto my thigh, I watched the door, waiting for it to be pushed open. It took teasingly forever. The creaks of the wooden staircase seemed to slow down, as the tempo was slowly shifted to my thundering heart.

Eventually the paint-peeling door was pushed oh-so-_slowly _open. Mr Slater, exactly as I remembered him (save for a new outfit, as perfect and befitting as the last) strutted majestically into the room. I didn't speak.

"Good evening, Demyx." He smiled at me, the clean-shaven corners of his mouth creasing. Still, my mouth was shy, as each syllable of 'evening' was crisply enunciated.

"Hi, Mr Slater." With the suited man, now sat rigidly upon yesterday's armchair, and in the same manner, came inexplicable warmth. Trying not to give the same fool's smile as last night, I wriggled my toes with pleasure, finally able to feel the soles of my feet. I'd failed. In the mirror behind the armchair, I could see my reflection with that goofy, dreamy grin. I could tell Mr Slater noticed, and his chuckling only made me feel even more self-conscious.

"How has your day fared?" He asked me. Though it took me a second to respond, I was ready for the question, and didn't look quite the idiot as last night.

"Unsuccessful. Number ten and I searched the town, for a large Heartless, but couldn't find it. Hey… you haven't seen the Guard Armour, have you, sir?" I don't know why I called him sir. But it suited him, and he seemed mildly pleased with it.

"Actually, indeed I have." I resisted starting forward in surprise, because that would lose any cool I had left. Instead, I raised my eyebrows quizzically, and he continued. "I saw it, and attacked it. The Guard Armour is no more. Now wonder you didn't find it."

He chuckled to himself, and I parroted, even though the light joke was not really up to much. I was still freaking out, trying not to squirm where I sat. His eyes locked into mine, after one quick dart to the door. His mouth was moving, and I tried to concentrate on what was coming out, but it took a few seconds to register.

"Which must mean you'll have many more opportunities to 'search' for it." The mouth was now a wicked grin, but I didn't quite understand why until I'd had time to dissect the words and put them together. I grinned back.

"And why is that such a good thing?"

"That is for you to work out." Both smirking at me, we stayed as we were and carried on speaking. Tonight, he was dressed in a sharp three-piece pinstripe suit, with a tie and all sorts. Scanning down his body, I spotted his wearing the same shiny shoes as last night ,and found myself just staring at them, again. His silver earring and wavy brown hair didn't occur to me, as I was lost in the obsidian black leather, answering questions without thinking. I didn't notice him following my lack of attention. My brain only kicked into gear when the Organization was brought up again, and my eyes flicked to meet his.

"How are things within Organization… XI, as I am to understand?"

"We're not exactly supposed to talk about it, sir… Well… I dunno. The new guy seems all right, but I only really have one friend, and he's busy trying to show the newbie the ropes, so I'm left on my own to go on missions with bloody Luxord." He tensed as the word 'bloody' was mentioned, and I made a mental note not to swear in front of him again.

"What's wrong with Luxord?" I hadn't been able to discuss this with anyone. Not before. This had been coiling inside me for so long, and now Mr Slater had opened the box for it to spring out.

"Well… we used to be friends, Mr Slater." I didn't tell him it was a little more. "But yesterday, I said something in front of The Superior about my heart, and he shouted at me. Luxord took his side, and said some horrible things."

"What things?"

"I don't want-"

"To tell me."

"No…"

"What did you say about your heart?" he asked. This could be explained. I wanted to. Maybe it would give the suited man an idea.

"He doesn't seem to understand that I have one." I was staring into his eyes, as he into mine.

"And you do?"

"Of course!" I shouted angrily, and wished I hadn't. His eyebrows rose sternly, before I quickly apologized and he settled once more.

"Then…" He said slowly, "You and I may be similar." I was curious at this. What did he mean? But asked, he waved the topic aside. "I don't really know, myself."

The evening went on. He was curious about the Organization, but soon realized I wanted the questions ceased.

"Mr Slater?"

"Yes?"

I thought how to word this without firing my volatile friend off again.

"Why are you so interested in The Organization?" He thought on this.

"You're interested in me. And so I'm interested in nobodies like you."

"Like me? I thought I was like you?"

"I don't know. Sometimes, Nobodies are so desperate to have hearts, they kid themselves with emotions they think are real." My blue eyes became stony, and they glared at his, as unblinkingly and as coldly. The smile faded from my face.

"My feelings are real, Mr Slater."

"I never said they weren't." I remained silent, so he continued.

"Sometimes, your feelings need to be proved. What are they?"

I thought. And thought. There they were. I could see them: A man in a suit with dark brown hair and shiny shoes floating around. Somewhere behind him, behind twisted oceans and musical notes was a black-clad figure whose face was hooded, so I ignored it. My eyes couldn't meet his anymore, and sloped back onto the boots.

"I have feelings." I said quietly. The atmosphere had become tenser than my own jumble of my thoughts. He, too, spoke hushed.

"And?"

"You. My feelings are you, sir."


	6. No Kidding

"You. My feelings are you, sir."

My head hung. I was now staring down. I couldn't look at Mr Slater, and I couldn't see his reaction. It was as there was nothing but my own breath, and the footsteps that would carry him from the room. I knew he was leaving. What had I told him? Any chance I might have had was now dashed by my recklessness.

Suddenly, I heard a creak of the bedsprings, and the mattress I was sitting on sank irregularly. I looked up wildly, and to my left was Mr Slater, sitting right up next to me.

"Why are you so worried?" He asked me, quietly. I'd turned to face the floor again.

I thought for a moment. "Because everytime I tell people what I think, I ruin things."

"That won't happen with me." With an internal gasp mingled with a sigh of sheer pleasure, I felt his long thin arm reach around behind my back, and the intricate spindly fingers gripping my shoulder gently, yet tightly. He was still silent, despite his slender breath.

My head descended slowly onto the soft linen of his fine suit's shoulder, a sweet cushion against the firmness and strength of his body. I expected him to shake me off, but did it anyway. He didn't.

My eyes rolled back so I could see the profile of his pale unblemished face. He was looking straight back, his stone eyes now a more kindly blue. I couldn't help but squirm with delight, and he chuckled deeply, his mouth barely opening. The beautiful merriment made me giggle, and I made him chuckle all the more. It was perfect, our laughing at the other's laughing…

I don't remember whose idea it was. I think it might have been mine. I daringly craned my head upward, not caring about the poke of his shoulder against my neck to reach up to his face. It wasn't sensible. But I did it anyway. My lips pursed and pushed forwards against his smooth cheek, and I pulled back quickly. This was easier said than done: his free hand was now busy, pushing my head back up from behind. He too was leaned toward me, and his lips met mine. Somewhere along the lines, I became laid across his lap, facing him, and our tilted heads kissed, our lips opening and closing in perfect synchronicity. It stopped long before I wanted it to.

He was looking deep into my eyes. "You're definitely not kidding yourself?"

"Of course not!" I started, affronted, but warmed when I understood what was happening.

"Just as well."

He closed in again, and the best kiss of my life was long forgotten, put to shame by what followed. I could taste slight spearmint on his lips, and it went on and on and on, only increasing in perfection. We stopped only when we wanted to: my reason was the exceeding soreness in my mouth.

* * *

I woke up beneath the burgundy duvet. I looked around, unsure of where I was. Then I remembered: the boutique. I'd insisted on going to bed there and then because I was exhausted (hunting the Guard Armour was the first 'menial' work I'd had in a while), and sure enough, around the room lay my clothes which I'd left around. Suddenly, sitting up and looking in the mirror, I spotted a post-it note on my head. On it was written, _"I'll be back in the morning. Sleep tight."_

I could still barely make sense of what had actually happened last night. He'd… _kissed_ me? Why? What interest was I to him? He was so perfect, and even more so in his noting my heart. Not even my best friends could see my heart, yet he was able to love it.

I didn't want him to see me in my dolphin briefs (and I hadn't last night), so I quickly scooped up my clothes scattered across the room, teeth chattering, and pulled the wrinkly garments on, scowling as the dust rubbed against my skin, and as my medium-length hair announced that the pillow had given it a lot of static, and that it wasn't going to be a Mohawk today. Just as I was about to pull my boots on, my 'fancy man' strolled through the door, scaring me from my skin.

I tripped over, and fell back onto the bed. Mr Slater looked at me, and then looked with distaste at my clothes. He was wearing the same as last night, only probably not. It was all still pristinely clean and flat, but today he had a bulging briefcase with him. I looked at him quizzically, and he returned the stare benevolently, with a big wide smile, swinging the briefcase onto the bed, and unfastened the golden clips. I was very surprised by what was on it. A pair of black trousers, a beautiful black shirt, a pair of black socks and gloves, a coat not unlike my own and a shoebox sat inside.

"A present." He said simply, but then added "The case, too." I looked up at him; my eyes wide open in shock. It was all the finest silk or linen available, and when I opened the shoebox, I saw a pair of formal brogues, glossier even than Mr Slater's pair shining in the dodgy light.

"Why? And thank you, sir!" I spluttered, looking at each garment in turn.

"Do I need a reason? But I saw that some water ruined your boots, and that your clothes weren't the best fitting, so… well… I just felt like you deserved a treat." He said, simply. I hugged him tight. This was possibly the first thing anybody had given me as a present that I could remember. He laughed, a hearty jovial noise, and asked, "I guess this makes you my boyfriend?"

I nodded, smiling encouragingly. I'd never thought of it like that.

"I like your hairdo, 'boyfriend'." He pointed at my frizzy beehive, and then patted me hard (harder than I'd have liked) on the back.

"I'm sorry the shoes aren't quite what you're used to: I don't go shopping at the same place as Xemnas." In my delight, I didn't question how he knew The Superior. He looked almost worried, but I gave him a smile.

"It's perfect." Then felt a bit cheap. "I didn't get you anything…"

"I don't need anything. But then, it's the thought that counts… could you 'improvise'?" I kissed him hard on the lips, and it became tonsil tennis once more. We stood in the middle of the room, hugging and kissing, slowly turning, like a rather lustful ballroom dance. It was at this point exactly that I knew it wouldn't last. But I dismissed the pessimism, and enjoyed my happiness while it lasted.

Eventually, he broke the kiss, and I looked at him as though he'd just bludgeoned my puppy.

"I'm sorry, Demyx. I have to go."

"Why?"

"'Busy, busy, busy', remember?"

"Okay…" He pecked my cheek once more, and left the room. I tried to follow him, but he disappeared from the door, and checking outside yielded no clues to where he had gone. I looked at the briefcase and clipped it up, before returning to the World that Never Was.


	7. An Icy Reception

The shadowy portal appeared in the Proof of Existence, and from there, I moved straight to my door and through into my room, where I lolled on the bed with a dozy grin on my face. There was nothing in my mind, but Mr Slater, my new briefcase and the boutique. The briefcase had been stacked on top of the beech wardrobe at the side of my room, keeping the leather away from water. I'd learned my lesson after yesterday.

I couldn't wear the nice stuff. I'd wear that tonight, when I met Mr Slater again… I just couldn't pry my thoughts from him! Since my 'Demyx' persona was born, nobody had ever treated me with as much respect as Mr Slater. Nobody had ever given me a gift, nor seen as much into me as him. He was right. I had a heart. I was just like him – I could _feel_ it.

"DEMYX! GET UP, YOU SLOTH!" The tyranny incarnate named Luxord hammered on my door. Any other job, and your boss wouldn't be able to shout you up for work.

"FINE! I'M UP!" I pulled on the usual garments quickly, and zipping up the coat, returned to the Proof of Existence, where a hoodless Luxord was tapping his foot, irate. When I arrived, he remained calm, but his voice dripped malevolence.

"Where did you go last night?" He scrutinized rudely.

"I don't work at night," I replied, cool as a cucumber, still smiling, despite the immense hate that the sight of the other nobody instilled in me, "so it doesn't matter where I go. Now then: what's the plan for today?" Luxord snorted.

"Vexen wants you to help with his research." I didn't give him the pleasure of seeing the scowl on my face, as we both stepped into the same portal, which took us to Vexen's laboratory.

The room was decorated all in white, like much of the rest of Castle Oblivion. There was no visible entrance or exit, and there was a huge collection of desks littered around the room, with bubbling solutions in test tubes, or computers or complex equipment. From our slight vantage point, at the head of a flight of short steps (they led to the wall where there was once a door, before Vexen had his tantrum about 'privacy') we could see a figure wandering around and checking the experiments meticulously.

Only when Luxord cleared his throat did the figure look at us, and pull his hood back, allowing his long golden hair to flay out over his shoulders. He had a prominent squint with which he gazed at us. Luxord used another portal the moment we were seen, and I hopped down the steps to Vexen with a false grin. He had annoyed me almost as much as Luxord. At least he didn't have as much to lose.

"Demyx," he whined, for that is how he spoke. "Be careful in my lab. I'm not afraid to tell you that you were my last choice for assistants." I scowled. I was doing a lot of that, recently. "Do not touch anything, unless instructed to by myself."

"How long do I have to do this for?"

"Until we're done."

It took a long time. Vexen got to do all the fun stuff, like pouring funny chemicals onto heartless, or playing with their minds by exposing it to other heartless, and seeing if it would remember. I got the grand honour of scribbling results and numbers I didn't understand and couldn't fit a context to, and Vexen pooh-poohed me every time I asked. Whenever he could, Vexen slipped in a comment in reference to my lack of heart, like referring to the irony that _we without_ hearts were not called heartless. My revenge was private. He didn't have a heart. But the same didn't necessarily apply to myself.

The hours passed slowly, almost deliberately so, with naught but the obnoxious venom that was Vexen's personality constantly salting my wounds, and the endless task of scribbling enigmas onto lined paper. My desire for eight o'clock was greater even than that yesterday.

"Vexen, please can you explain at least _some_ of this?" I moaned. I knew the answer was, "No", before Vexen even opened his putrid thin little lips.

At six, he simply couldn't insist I stayed overtime, and I skipped into a portal, back to the Proof, and again, back into my room. I reached up to the briefcase on top of the wardrobe in the circular blue room, and, after a quick wash in the pool (and after drying, obviously) pulled on some of my gift clothes.

They felt expensive. They looked expensive. They _smelled_ expensive. If I'd licked the shirt, it would probably have tasted of caviar. The clothes were perfectly fitted to me, and the coat was a beautiful material, although, at even a slight scrutiny was more of a blazer than the robe I had to wear to work. The gloves and socks came on, and fitted me exactly, and then I laced up the new shoes. In the time in which I'd become a nobody, I'd never had a pair of non-Organization boots, and so I fumbled with the laces for a minute, not used to it, but I got there in the end.

Another portal took me to Traverse Town again. I decided to wait outside for a minute, because being in Vexen's stuffy lab had made me slightly claustrophobic and I wanted the air. As I looked around, I spotted Luxord slicing some shadows to a pulp with a pair of massive playing cards. I tried to vanish again, but he saw me.

"Where are you going, Demyx?"


	8. Ignorance is Bliss

"Where are you going, Demyx?" I froze in my footsteps. The heartless had already long been dispatched by the playing cards, and I had no escape. I considered just running, or using a portal, but there'd be no excuse later.

"I asked you where you were going, Demyx."

"I know. I was deciding how best to answer."

Luxord was looking me up and down, and had sussed my non-Organization based activity.

"Well?"

"I'm going to meet someone." I tried to summon a portal before he got a chance to respond, but he got another set of questions in before I had time to answer.

"Who are you going to meet? Where? Why?"

"That's private," I said slowly. Until he had proof of my having another relationship, he couldn't report me to The Superior. But, as the portal sprang from the ground, I saw the look in his eyes that meant he was going to do all in his power to get the sufficient evidence. The two pairs of blue eyes glowered at the other, as mine faded into the blackness.

I returned to the boutique, the third night running. I took my usual seat on the bed, and admired my new clothes as I sat, my ankle resting on my thigh, my shoe glinting in the light. I'd turned the dimmer switch on full, but ensured the blinds were drawn. It was important that Luxord didn't find Mr Slater. If he did, all was lost.

It was eight o'clock, all too slowly, and Mr Slater arrived, right on time. This time, he didn't bother with the chair, but sat right next to me, and wrapped his arm around me as he sat, and I returned the gesture. He plucked at my blazer and smiled, pointing also at my shoes.

"You approve, then?"

I nodded, enthusiastically, and kissed his cheek. Tonight, he was dressed in a plain skinny blazer, and black trousers, plus the shoes, and a white T-shirt with a scarf he'd left on the dressing table.

"Sooo…" He swirled the word around his mouth, and I was more than eager to hear the rest of the sentence. "How's my favourite little Demyx, then?" he asked, beaming at me, and ruffling my fluffy hair. I grinned back, and let him have his blond fun.

"Mr Slater?" I asked, tentatively.

"Yes…?" He responded, impassive.

"You know lots about me…" His expression was not encouraging. "But I don't know anything about you…" His reply was quick and sharp, and I instantly regretted having said anything.

"And this matters?"

"Well… I want to know something, sir. What made us who we are, rather than nobodies?"

"It's complicated." He sounded patronizing, and this only spurned me on to push things further.

"And what about you? I don't know anything about you beyond your appearance!" I could see his tongue rolling around inside his thin mouth. I couldn't look at the stony turmoil that was his eyes, and I had to resort to slipping my vision to his shoes once more, as the vicious hiss that was his voice filled all eight corners of the room. I felt unprotected, as his arm returned to his own side, rather than around me, and I had no choice to do but the same.

"Don't you know my heart? Don't you know my feelings for you? _Look at me, _Demyx!" I couldn't.

"Yes, sir. I know your heart, and your feelings…" I think I'd said the right thing. I could feel the eyes relenting in their stare slightly, but I still didn't look up. I didn't want to see the full fury of Mr Slater.

"And what are they?" The voice was now his normal one, just slightly colder.

"For me, Mr Slater."

"Of course my feelings are for you, Demyx! So what else matters?" I considered. Part of my reason was just to keep him calm, but most of it was sheer truth.

"Nothing." I looked up at him, at last, as the whispered words left my lips, and fluttered to the floor. "Nothing, sir. And nobody." His eyes had softened again, and he smiled once more. I felt happy again, and not knowing anything about him counted for naught.

"Correct." He kissed me on the lips, but it wasn't quite the passionate events of last night: simple affection, and worth every cell on both of our lips.


	9. Dancing to Whose Tune?

I was lying down, on top of the quilt, my torso propped against the headboard. Mr Slater lay next to me. Our shoes were on the floor, both pairs right next to one another, perfectly aligned, laces tucked inside, and they were pushed under the bed, where they wouldn't get scuffed or dirty. We weren't doing anything I wouldn't tell you about: we were both still mostly dressed: I'd unbuttoned some of my shirt, and both jackets were on the back of the chair. Even in little more than a T-shirt and dark jeans, Mr Slater still looked so much more business-like than I.

We were still talking, but the atmosphere was sweet as honey, but clear and fluid as milk.

"So… Demyx? What to you do? In your time off?" This one was obvious. If he'd been asking about the Organization, I wouldn't have answered.

"I play music. My sitar." He nodded slowly, his eyebrows raised, looking impressed. "And you, Mr Slater?" A daring question, but he didn't mind this one.

"I search to find myself. But with you… I don't think I need to." I didn't understand the 'finding himself' part, but I understood what he meant, and I leaned over and kissed him. Asking about him never ever achieved results. "How about you play me a tune?" He asked, settling down, and I felt my face go red. Nobody had ever, ever, asked me to play, in the Organization, and only a few select members didn't tut whenever I played unrequested, so I hesitated. "Please?" He wheedled, and I felt myself grin, and summon the sitar, from moisture in the air. He smiled widely, and I moved over to the armchair, and sat myself down, resting the sitar between my left foot and right knee, crossing my legs, as much was as possible. Whispering the beat to myself, I played some low notes on the three strings, slowly, but then plucked a crescendo of rich solid sounds, and worked it into a strong melodic riff. This was the only time since I'd met him that my thoughts were off Mr Slater, but instead focused on something I could control. After about a minute of playing, I stopped to a politely quiet back-of-the-hand applause from my friend, and returned to my seat on the bed, where it was much, much warmer, and Mr Slater had left unoccupied, and I slid up next to him again. It was now eleven o'clock: time had flown so quickly.

"When did you start playing?" He asked me. We were lying down properly, now, looking directly at the other, our heads resting in one hand each, and elbows on the burgundy pillow. I couldn't draw my mind from his immaculate face or lips, and thinking back was beyond me.

"I don't remember."

"I'm tired, Demyx." I was worried.

"Do you have to go?" I asked.

"No. I have to sleep." He replied, pulling off his t-shirt, jeans and socks very quickly, and threw the lump of clothes into the lap of the armchair. From there, he slipped beneath the duvet. I only caught a glimpse of his bare bronzed skin and black boxers, before he was beneath the sheets.

"Do you want me to go?" I asked. I didn't want the evening to end, but I didn't want Mr Slater to feel uncomfortable, so stood up, giving him room on the small single bed.

"No Demyx. I don't want you to go." He patted the space beneath the duvet that wasn't occupied with him, and I nodded, and undressed myself, leaving the nice clothes on the desk. I left my boxers on as I slipped beneath the duvet, and pressed up to Mr Slater's warm, dry, firm body. But I had to say something, first.

"I don't want us to…"

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything you felt uncomfortable with." He cut through me, but I still felt I ought to explain.

"Not long before I met you, sir, I had something with Luxord." I could feel him tense (who didn't whenever people spoke of their ex's?), but I continued anyway. "When Xemnas found out, Luxord took cover behind me, and said he'd saw nothing in it, but hadn't wanted to crush my belief of having a heart, so went with the flow. I got all the blame, and didn't tell the truth about Luxord, because I still had feelings for him, but after a conversation with Xemnas, Vexen and he, I realized just how vicious he is. I don't want to rush anything just yet." Mr Slater's eyes locked into mine.

"I am not a means of getting back at Luxord, am I, Demyx?" he asked quietly.

"Of course not, sir!" I insisted, and he accepted, giving me the gift of another affectionate peck, though his eyes were still hard, not at me.

"That sounds like something Luxord would do," He muttered, irate. "Abandoning someone because it's easier than facing the consequences…" I didn't think to question how he knew this.

There we lay, together. There was almost no space, and our bodies were pressed right up together, but I didn't mind, and he didn't complain, although I couldn't tell what he was thinking. It was warm and dry, and although dryness wasn't something I was used to, I enjoyed it, and couldn't help but have that dozy grin on my face. He was now lying on his side, and murmured "Goodnight, Demyx." I bade him a pleasant sleep in return, and we closed our eyes, together.


	10. Meet the Ex

My eyes flickered open. I was still in the burgundy bed, and Mr Slater's neck was all I could see and smell, and this was the first time I came across his sweet aftershave. I could hear his quiet breathing, and this made me desire him conscious all the more.

"Mr Slater?" I whispered.

"What is it, Demyx?" He asked, his voice slightly ratty, but if I had been woken, the same would apply to me.

"I was going to ask if you were awake…"

We got dressed together. Somehow, Mr Slater's clothes had been neither creased, nor appeared any different to last night. I wasn't so lucky, and my new shirt and trousers were slightly less pleasant than the night before. We collected our shoes at the same time, but I couldn't tell the difference, as they were exactly identical brogues. Mr Slater evidently could, and laced his up in a double bow, the moment his feet were inside. I laced mine, not so fluidly, in a double bow, too.

This time, Mr Slater didn't leave me. We exited the boutique together, and headed into the streets of the Second District in Traverse Town: the sun was just about rising. I was about to speak, when a cacophony of screams split the silence, from about only two hundred metres away. I nearly fell over in shock, whereas Mr Slater checked the nearby surroundings.

Suddenly, I yelled for my friend to turn, as a dusk nobody appeared in a white portal, just in front of me, and two gamblers joined it, less than a second later. He didn't need calling, as he'd spotted them, springing up all over the street. I could hear them communicating, to which Mr Slater was clearly oblivious.

_There is Melodious Nocturne's correspondent… report to Gambler of Fate…subdue target via force…_

"Mr Slater, they plan to hurt you!" I should have known Luxord would try to find him out, and of course, he'd seen me in Traverse Town, not seen me all night, and put two and two together. The screams must have been the denizens of the First District, but they'd practised fighting heartless since they'd even arrived, so I'd let them hold their own. It was we, the targets of the assailants, whom needed to worry.

The nobodies shambled and danced forward, closing in slowly. I drew my sitar, whilst Mr Slater pulled his beautiful thinly barrelled gun from his jacket. More nobodies appeared right before us. But these were my own. The creamy-pink Dancers skated toward the others, kicking and jumping their way through the horde. There were some bursts of light as my soldiers and some of Luxord's set was destroyed. They'd dented the force, but the crowd around us was still over one hundred strong. They were waiting, as did Mr Slater and myself. But for what? I wasn't complaining, though.

Suddenly, on top of one of the buildings appeared, from a shadowy portal, a blond man, dressed in an Organization robe. "Demyx, and your friend, stay where you are! My army has disabled your ability to summon portals, and you cannot fight them. Wait till Xemnas arrives, and then we can sort you out…"

"Luxord!" This was Mr Slater. "Why don't you come down here, you coward, and apprehend us yourself?"

Luxord's face shifted from a triumphant rosy pink to a furious red. "You!" I looked from the Gambler of Fate to my friend, back and forth.

"Me."

"What are you doing here?"

I looked at Mr Slater, shaking my head, pleading with him.

Don't say… 

_Don't say…_

He caught my warning.

"This young man and his companion – whose heart has been lost – were attacked by these 'nobodies' you control. Now they are convinced that I am the companion." It sounded pretty convincing, but Luxord wasn't convinced.

"You didn't save me from the heartless. Why should you rescue some people you don't know?"

"I learned from my mistakes, Luxord."

"That's a shame. But if you don't tell the truth, my nobodies can and will kill you. I know you. You were always a skilled liar, and I don't believe you." Luxord clicked his fingers, and the nobodies charged forward. I was knocked aside, my sitar flew from my reach, and Mr Slater was knocked down. Indeed: a few fell to a rapid-fire chain of bullets from the pistol, but he was knocked to the floor by a die, launched by a Gambler. They left a small amount of space around his carcass, around which a sole dusk wobbled to his head. He was helpless.

I climbed to my feet, but could do nothing. I looked at Luxord, who shrugged, a malevolent smirk adorning his features. I did the only thing I could.

"STOP!"

Luxord clicked his fingers, and the nobodies relented, staying where they were. "Why?" He asked cruelly.

"Just do it!" I yelled, but his eyebrows just rose. He repeated his question.

Mr Slater looked at me, but offered no help. Were he to move, the nobodies would instantly slaughter him.

"Because I love him! Not that you understand!"

Luxord took a step back. This time, he was lost for words. "Demyx… loving him is a mistake, and telling me I don't understand is a grievous error."


	11. Resigning to Persist

"Because I love him! Not that you understand!" Luxord took a step back. This time, he was lost for words. Mr Slater smiled at me, and I returned it, regardless of the circumstances.

"Demyx… loving him is a mistake, and telling me I don't understand is a grievous error." Luxord surprised me. I looked again from he to Mr Slater, mouth gaping wide open. Mr Slater's face was again of fury, and I simply couldn't look at him. I had to look away. And that is why I still don't know what he did. The nobody army started shuddering when I turned round, sensing he was slightly calmer, and increasingly violently. Most of them were falling to the floor, and dissolving into white light.

In Luxord's surprise (mine, too), Mr Slater jumped up, and grabbed my hand.

"We have to go: I'll explain later."

I didn't resist, and allowed him to pull me into a dark portal, even though I didn't know where he proposed to go.

We emerged in a circular room, all white. It had few features: a huge wardrobe, a large double bed, and a desk. There were two doors. There were no windows.

Mr Slater was talking, but I wasn't really listening. I was busy trying to make sense of what I'd just learned from his and Luxord's conversations.

"This room is built deep below the third district of Traverse Town, and only those with hearts can enter with a portal, and there's no other way in." That meant we were protected.

"Mr Slater… Luxord said some stuff back there…" I murmured.

"Don't worry, Demyx, I'll explain." He interrupted. "Before he became a nobody, and before I became who I am, we are, Luxord and I took a shine to one another, here in Traverse Town. However, Luxord picked a fight with some heartless, and took his chances. He became a nobody, but I found his heart. I'd been chasing him till only a week or two before I'd met you with it, when I realised he'd joined the Organization. Searching for new hearts. Why 'new' hearts, when their old ones were perfectly intact? But when I found him, he refused to take the heart I'd chased him around the world with! I took the heart in, and became what I am. That's why I don't know how you became like me, because I doubt your experience was the same as mine."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, sitting on the bed, not looking at him. He sat next to me, and tried to kiss me, but I moved my head away.

"Because I didn't want you to think I was using you only to get at Luxord."

"And are you?"

"Of course not!" I didn't say anything. "Look, Demyx: I should have been more honest with you. But… I liked you too much to say anything that might have spoiled it." He tried to kiss me again, and this time I allowed his dry lips to touch my cheeks briefly. "Demyx… please… Don't you understand?" I turned round and stared at his face, my eyes not giving anything away. "If you let this happen, Luxord will have achieved his goal! He doesn't care about you: he can't, he's a nobody. He feels only jealousy of our hearts, and how he lost them, and they came together! If you don't them be together, he'll win! Don't let him win, Demyx."

"Mr Slater…?" I asked, slowly.

"Demyx?"

"Will you always be there?"

"Yes." I thought for a minute or two.

"I'm going to leave the Organization. They were manipulating me. Xemnas knows I have a heart, and building Kingdom Hearts has no benefit for me. I have no friends that I can trust. You're all I have. I want to stay here, with you, sir. Because I love you." He kissed me, and I let him take my lips this time.

"We cannot be safe together. Not while the Organization still lives. Xemnas and Luxord both despise being one-upped, and they most certainly have been. They will do all they can to kill me, and you if you don't join them." He warned me, but I didn't care.

"I won't join them. They've abused me long enough. If we have a problem, we'll run together, or fight together."

"Thank you." He said. "You know we can't live in peace until we have been forgotten?"

"Yes. Only Luxord, Vexen and The Superi… I mean, Xemnas, know of my heart, so they're the only ones we need to dispose of."

"Sound reasoning, but I am once again exhausted. My extra heart defeated the nobodies earlier, but it had left me with no energy. I shall get you some clothes that won't instantly identify you to the Organization, and then I will retire." As he headed to the wardrobe, I stripped down to my boxers and climbed into the bed, to await his return.


	12. Live Bait

Morning arrived as unrelentingly as Mr Slater. He was leaning over me, almost completely naked, shaking my shoulders to wake me. I mumbled something most probably rude, not actually sure what was coming out of my mouth.

"Hey, it's no fun being your boyfriend if you're just going to sleep!"

Reluctantly, I sat up, and stretched, still beneath the snow-white duvet of the spacious double bed, yawning rudely. "Come on, get up!" irate, I climbed from the bed, following Mr Slater over to the massive wardrobe, that seemed to be part of the wall. It was a massive walk-in closet inside, almost a room in its own right. The closet was almost two by six metres long, with two rails stretching the entire length on either side, with masses of clothes hanging from them. Well, one had a huge load of clothes all crushed together, visibly pushing against the walls. The other had less garments hanging on it, nowhere near as jammed as the other rail, but as Mr Slater pointed to them, I realized that they were now mine, and hugged him again.

"They mightn't all fit properly, because they used to be mine, but they're there. You can't wear all your blacks again, because the Organization will spot you a mile away." I nodded. Beneath the rail laid a few cardboard boxes, which I silently questioned Mr Slater about with a hand-shrug. He answered with a gesture, and there were accessories and several pairs of shoes in there when I opened it.

"They're in good nick, but, like I say, they're all old misfits." I thanked him anyway, and as he pulled a sharp blue suit and black trench coat out, I rifled through to find a few matching garments, and came out with a simple grey suit. I questioned whether or not Mr Slater had ever worn anything but a suit. The trousers were a little baggy, so I grabbed a belt from the box, and a silk handkerchief looked good with the blazer, so I popped that in, too. There was a skinny tie that I looped around my neck, loosely, and checked myself in the full body mirror.

"Not bad." Mr Slater was standing behind me. "I remember what you said last night, that Xemnas, Luxord and Vexen would be the only ones who we'd need to dispose of?"  
"Mm?" I was brushing my hair down, in a sickly comb over. My hair looked darker, and I was almost unrecognisable without my signature mullet.

"I'm not sure that was accurate." He said, quietly. "Whilst only they might know of the reasons behind your betrayal, they aren't likely to be the ones hunting you about it, really, are they? Vexen is a scientist; Xemnas is the boss, but Luxord is the only tracker. And if we kill him, does he have friends keen on revenge?"

That was a real damper of the spirit: Xigbar and Xaldin were the closest to Luxord after I used to be, and still, they were close. As second and third in the order, if they wanted to kill someone, they only had to ask Xemnas, who would certainly not complain in our case. I remarked so to Mr Slater, who said "sugar," irately. I would have used a different word, in his shoes, but it would have started with the sound 'sh'.

"I think we should deal with Luxord, first." He said, after a while. We were sitting on the bed, both lacing up our identical dress brogues. "We cannot touch a higher member until the lower ones are mostly out of the way, which means we need to start from the bottom and work our way to the top. I suggested Luxord because he is one of the hunters of the Organization, and has some strong personal motives. Besides: he deserves it."

I couldn't help but heartily agree.

* * *

It was dark again, in Traverse Town. This time, we were in the Third District. It was just one huge concrete platform, where the market used to be held. Tonight, all that was held was a young woman, gagged and bound, left on the floor, unharmed. Yet. She was breathing fast and shallowly. Making a lot of noise, she sealed her fate.

Mr Slater and I watched from the shadows as the heartless approached, tentatively at first, but then, from nowhere, dashed a soldier heartless, that jumped onto her chest. It clawed through the skin and flesh, before disappearing. The woman's body began to fade into nothingness, but her heart stayed where it was, the golden entity, so pure, mutating so softly at first. I couldn't watch the whole thing, and turned, sobbing into Mr Slater's shoulder at the terribleness of it all.

"Remember… we're doing this to be together. Always."


	13. Heartlock

"Remember… we're doing this to be together. Always." My head was buried in the crisp linen of Mr Slater's shirt, sobbing, silently into his chest. He didn't complain as he hugged me intimately back with one arm. The other arm was over my shoulder, pointing at the heart, slowly turning. The heart revolved with it.

I'd pulled myself mostly together, and turned round, with a mighty sniff, still leaning on Mr Slater's front. He continued to do whatever he was doing with the raw golden heart floating, but I couldn't understand. The heartless nearby were slowly being drawn to the heart, gravity an irrelevant factor, as the invisible force sucked them into the golden black hole. He tried to explain.

"I have two hearts, remember?" He whispered. "This gives me a certain amount of power of them…" I still didn't understand, but what I did understand was that the magnificent gold I once saw was now corrupted by the darkness of the heartless, as their ensnared hearts became one with the original. It mutated further, becoming a revolting black creature, sans distinct form. It was horrifying, and as all the nearby heartless creatures were sucked into the gaping shady mass still in its centre, Mr Slater ushered me away into the second district, out of harm's way.

"That thing is volatile. It will not care whether or not we have hearts, and will attack us tenaciously if we are seen." I looked into his eyes.

"You shouldn't have done that, sir." I said, slowly, my eyes still watering.

"The girl? I'm sorry, Demyx. It was the only way I could create that heartless, and without it, we have no means of drawing Luxord out, because he will only hunt or us, or a creature with a great deal of hearts." I sniffed my nose, lest the obvious sign of immaturity came trickling down my nose. "Do you understand? When we've done this, if you want, we can find that girl. We can find her nobody, and bring her her heart back."

"I'd like that, Mr Slater."

"After all, that's what should be done." He muttered darkly, and rubbed his hand over his chest. I understood his hurt: I more than knew the pain of being cruelly rejected by Luxord.

We kept watching from afar, watching the putrid creature, about thrice my height shamble around the third district, looking for more hearts. It was new, and couldn't understand more than a newborn baby.

It took almost an hour, but I didn't mind. I just stayed there, my arms around the taller man, and being kept in return. Mr Slater kept telling me how perfect everything would be when the Organization would let us alone. I let him. All that stood in our path was the ten members. If they stayed there, we would plough through them.

Suddenly, Mr Slater let go of me. I understood what that meant, without needing to be told. A member was here, and when Mr Slater took a wolfish grin and glint in his eyes, I knew exactly whom it was. But we couldn't go yet. The whole brilliance of Mr Slater's heartless plan, no matter what it entailed, was that the thing that drew him out would defeat him, also.

"How do you know?" I heard an inhuman roar of anger in the distance, knowing that Luxord was attacking the monster.

"His heart has been listening for him." He held his chest again. "He is fighting it." He kept up the commentary for a few minutes, and I left him to it. Suddenly, his face fell, a look of amazement and irritation combined on his face. "He's defeated it! Quick!" Whilst he drew his gun, I pulled my sitar from nowhere, and we dashed back into the Third District.

The massive murky being was on the floor, writhing angrily, slowly dissolving. As the final pieces of its body vanished, the huge golden heart began to float to the sky, and the hooded figure looked up, a deep laugh filling the air. It ceased as Mr Slater jumped down from the high balcony with impossible grace, me following with a portal. The heart stopped where it was, trapped in a soap-like bubble, still high up, perfectly still.

"I'm sorry, Luxord." My ally said, pointing the gun at him with two hands. "That heart won't go to waste."

"I don't a heart from you." He stated, flatly, not surrendering, summoning the two massive playing cards after pulling his hood back.

"I don't want you to have one." Was the response, and the bullet missed the blond head by inches. But if Luxord was smiling, he wasn't when a volley of solidly packed water-bombs from me (I'd just played a quick quartet of low-pitched notes) flew in his direction, and knocked him back into a wall. Luxord tried to summon a portal, but it vanished, quickly.

"Whoever's possession it is in, this heart came originally from you." Said Mr Slater, closing in slowly, still pointing the gun at a worried Luxord's chest. "You can't run away from it. You can't run away from us, not again. I offered to give you the heart back, but you refused to take it, and ran from it. But now… I'm not going to let that happen." He began to squeeze the trigger, but I, next to him, said.

"Give me his last seconds," and he nodded, keeping an eye on his prey. "Luxord. You deserted Mr Slater, and you deserted me. After we both stuck our neck out for you – I could have insisted that it was with you I discovered my heart-"

"You don't have a-"

"You know I do!" I roared. "Together… we knew the other, we loved the other. But no: not now. Mr Slater respects me. Mr Slater won't give me up. And now… Mr Slater is going to destroy one of the barriers that block us from the other. No hard feelings, Luxord. I spare my feelings for those who can understand them." I turned back to Mr Slater. "Do it, sir."

"No, _don't_ do it, 'Mr Slater."


	14. Tell a Lie

"No, _don't_ do it, 'Mr Slater."

Mr Slater and I looked up to the balcony above. There we saw a leering face of Xigbar, pointing a crossbow at me. Sniper nobodies surrounded him, and Zexion stood further to the back. He was clutching someone else roughly, and I realized, with a jolt, that it was the blond girl we'd sacrificed to the heartless. She'd become a nobody, so Mr Slater and I could stay together. He summoned a portal and dragged her into it.

A hail of laser beams cascaded upon us, but somehow, an invisible force seemed to block those that came closest to us. Mr Slater shouted across.

"It's now or never! I can't keep this up forever, and I can't destroy those nobodies like yesterday if I stop Luxord from creating a portal!"

As he danced backwards, firing pot shots at the Snipers, I hammered some quick frets onto my sitar. Five dense water-balls shot hurled themselves from nowhere at the nobodies, scattering them, knocking them down. What we hadn't remembered was Luxord, and Mr Slater jumped to the side, to push me out of the way of a spinning die.

Picking myself up, with a fruity selection of four-letter words, I started to play, like I'd never played before: all around me, a cascade of water formed, and from that, emerged hundreds of water figurines, some of musical notes, others of my sitar, others of me. They splashed around the arena, taking hits for us as meat shields, or driving the enemy back. Whilst I continued my raucous cacophony of notes, Mr Slater kept his arcane barrier up high, taking the brunt of Xigbar's shots, but I'd been warned it wouldn't last. He concentrated his gun on blasting whatever came closest to us, but it wasn't enough.

Slowly, the barrier above began to split: some shots of consistent persistency were getting through, and more and more nobodies were appearing by the second. But what was worse was, I couldn't keep up: I wasn't wearing my gloves, and my pale fingers were sore from pressing against the strings, aching from the quick movements. All the while, constant shots and spinning dice were rushing round the arena, gently pushing us into an inevitable defeat. I wouldn't stop. My fingers were sore, and I'd broken skin in more than one area. My legs were tired: if I didn't keep moving, I was done for. But all the while, my liquid creations were weakening, and when Mr Slater dodged behind one, it offered little protection, the shot skimming through its weedy build and striking Mr Slater squarely in the chest.

The battle was lost. I stopped playing. As my lover fell to the floor, his pistol dropping, too, I joined him, eyes watering.

"Demyx… you must help us flee. I don't have the energy."

He murmured, lips barely moving, as I nodded. The nobody army all took place in a perfect circle around us, within two metres. There were over two hundred all aiming the bows at the two people with suits, one wounded, the other on the verge of tears. Luxord and Xigbar stood at twelve and six o'clock of the circle. Xigbar was laughing, but Luxord's face was deadly serious.

"Demyx… he cannot protect you. This is your last chance…"

I shook my head, now crying. I had helped Mr Slater to his feet, both of us glaring at Luxord. Mr Slater was leaning on me for balance, and I screamed out loud.

"I won't let you get in our way!" With that, I summoned a portal. Though it didn't come. "Mr Slater! I can't summon a portal to take us to the safe place!" Tears were streaking down my flushed cheeks, dripping down the contours of my face, the salty taste on my tongue exactly equivalent to the bitter desire I had for our assailants.

"And why is _that_, 'Mr Slater'?" Asked Xigbar, with mock inquisitiveness.

"Why indeed?" Interjected Luxord. "It couldn't be that your 'secret' den we shared so long ago can't be accessed by one without a _heart_, can it?"

"I _can_ go there!" I insisted, promising myself that what Luxord was insinuating was a lie, trying – to no avail – to return to the safe place again.

"Through _his_, portal, indeed you can." Came the cruel reply. My mouth hung open. I had nothing to say, and wished my feelings for once away. Oh, I had a feeling. Numbness. As a heavy force on my shoulder pushed me into a shadowy portal, and I felt myself collapse onto the soft double bed, numbness filled my entire existence, and Mr Slater's pleas for forgiveness were thankfully redundant.


	15. Lovelocked

I lay on the bed.

I felt sick.

Mr Slater sat on the edge of the bed, head hanging, not looking at me. I couldn't see his face, and I was allowing myself to remain oblivious to sound, so anything he said was irrelevant.

I'd been so stupid. I'd blindly followed my heart. Well. I'd managed that without a heart. No wonder I'd lost it. Maybe I was so stupid I didn't deserve it. I'd thrown away all I had, all I could have with the Organization.

I kept trying to summon portals, just to check it wasn't one of Luxord's tricks. Luxord was right. Mr Slater was a liar. Loving him was a mistake.

It was like one of our meetings in the boutique in reverse. We didn't talk. My loathing for Mr Slater immersed me as each second took an eternity of pain. I had no option but to stay, or talk to Mr Slater. Eventually, he turned around to face me, but didn't have much luck. The fragment of a moment when I saw his tear-stricken face and once-perfect fringe, I closed my eyes, and rolled onto my side.

"Demyx… look at me." I ignored him. "Demyx?" He tugged at my shirt gently. I pulled away, still not looking.

"I want to go." I said. My voice was hollow. I did not turn around.

"The Organization is still after you! Where would you go?" He beseeched me. I didn't answer the question.

"I want to go." I repeated.

"Please, Demyx, just listen to-"

"Let me go!" I shouted, looking at him for the first time. My sickly refined hair was now sticking up wildly in places and my blue eyes were an ocean tempest, and as I locked onto him, he looked away.

"I don't want you to go." He said, quietly.

"Pathetic!" I roared, standing up, and looking down on him. "You promised me you'd always be there, you promised me you cared!" He stood up, too, and glared at me back.

"I _am_ here! I _do_ care!" He yelled back.

"You promised me I had a…" I couldn't hold in the tears, and they erupted down my cheeks. I fell back upon the bed; face down, hitting the sheets with my fist like a child in a tantrum.

"I have never, _ever_, said you had a heart." He said. He wasn't shouting. He sat back onto the bed, and stroked my hair. I stopped my anger, but didn't respond in any other way, other than to pull my head from his reach. After a few minutes, I sat back up, next to him. We weren't speaking, again. He put his arm around me. I let him, but neither returned nor reacted to the gesture. After a minute, he took his arm back. His hands lay somewhere in his lap. I was biting my nails. The suit jackets and ties lay in ugly lumps on the floor. I couldn't have been bothered to unlace my shoes, but it seemed that Mr Slater couldn't get round his habit of neatness where they were concerned. I was staring down into my own lap, and couldn't see the man's face.

Time crawled by. No matter how many times he tried to hug me, or kiss me, he drew blank each attempt. I couldn't understand: why if I had no heart, did I have to endure this hatred for the man next to me?

"Let me go." I said, looking at him again, bringing my feet onto the bed, and huddling in a ball. I was inexplicably cold. He looked at my shoes on the bed distastefully, but I didn't care, and he didn't complain.

"Demyx… I will not let you kill yourself, and leaving will do just that…"

"What have I to live for, if not to chance getting my heart back?"

"Maybe me?" he asked. He wasn't sarcastic or rude. It was a question.

"Maybe."

"Let me go. Please. Mr Slater. Let me _go._" There were no pleas about it. It was a command. He was about to open his mouth, when we were interrupted. A portal, just like any summoned by Organization XIII, started to manifest very slowly in the centre of the room. A voice emerged.

"Your time's up! We kept this portal open, so, by means of physics, we can still march right in there. Demyx: surrender, or be fried with your sweetheart. Choose: now!" A black figure that I knew to be Luxord stepped from the portal. A small Nobody army, made of Xaldin's Dragoons, dusks, and Xigbar's Archers trampled through behind him. Once in, the teleported, jumped, or slithered their way to the side of the room, or remained by the portal to guard it. "Portals are henceforth unemployable…"

"But that one-" I insisted, pointing to the shadowy vortex, still remaining in the centre, its black smoke billowing before fading to nothing.

"-is being held open by Xigbar. Now: make your choice. What say you to returning to us, or being destroyed along with 'Mr Slater'?"


	16. Turnaround

"Now: make your choice. What say you to returning to us, or being destroyed along with 'Mr Slater'?" Luxord's mouth curved around the words, enjoying every bit of finally having power over Mr Slater. He didn't have his gun, and, now, I realized with a gulp, every nobody in the room was pointing a weapon at him, or ready to lunge if necessary. Mr Slater and I stood up immediately, but we knew how little we could affect them.

"Normally," chatted Luxord, as though it was only a tea party. "I would prefer to use my own nobodies, but they rely on chance, which, this time, I cannot do. I have given you ample time to decide between the man who told you that you had a heart, or the Organization that could rescue it. Choose. Now."

"You do not rescue hearts!" Roared Mr Slater, but he fell silent as a Dragoon prodded him with its spear threateningly.

This time, I held back the tears, like Xigbar had told me when I was recruited. I masked over my face, and said, trying to sound emotionless, "He lied to me. I want a heart back. Any heart." Luxord's face lit up of pure glee.

"You make sense. I told you about him, but you found out the difficult way…"

"I want to do it myself. To kill him." Mr Slater looked at me. I could see nothing in his eyes again. Maybe the dull gleam of sorrow, again…?

"You're sure?" Mr Slater didn't speak. This was Luxord.

"Yes." The nobodies around us slipped back, and the portal slowly closed itself once more, with only a small portion of the vortex still visible. Luxord warned me that it was no longer working, and I would be killed if I tried.

I drew my sitar. Mr Slater pulled his jacket's sleeves back. Pitiful.

I couldn't believe what I was going through with. A low minim, and we both stood our ground. I started playing again. Balls of ultra-dense water rushed at Mr Slater, whose only hope was to jump to the side, as he did. Next, water jets from non-existent geysers blasted from the ground, and he wasn't so lucky, knocked up into the air, and plummeting down. Nevertheless, he got back up again.

I continued to play, and I'd pulled my gloves on beforehand, to protect my frail skin from the sharp wires. Water was again cascading around me in a huge dome high above my head, but not even making contact, and there was nothing he could do. Rapidly, the same water figures as before started charging out of the head of my sitar, hurtling at Mr Slater.

He was buffeted by the constant storm. With no visible protection but the bed on which I was standing, he tried to dodge the hurtling gravity-defying forms, but only so they would turn around and strike him from behind.

I was working him towards one of the massive white doors in the room. I didn't know what was on the other side, but as he tried to run inside as an escape, I saw that it was an empty tight corridor, the end roughly cemented over. This must have been the exit, once, before Mr Slater had nobody-proofed it. Luxord had followed us inside from a safe distance, and even Xigbar had tagged along for the show. The nobodies were behind them.

Mr Slater took a few more hits from water, until he finally fell down, kneeling, holding his hand out in a futile protection against my last strike: the figures were now spiralling around me, joining together, working a huge typhoon-like storm in appearance, and all the while, my sitar's became more and more intense and louder and louder.

Luxord spoke to me, shouting above my disharmonic tunes.

"Do it! Now!" I looked at Mr Slater.

"Please… please, Demyx. All I wanted was to be with you…" I didn't think Luxord could hear him, but I tried to block the sound from my mind, as I slammed my fingers on a string, and plucked as hard as was feasible to keep with the tune. The water raged forward. Mr Slater didn't scream. He wanted to go with dignity.


	17. Heart, Kiss and Gone

**I'm not done yet!**

**Nope, this isn't going to be the last chapter!**

* * *

"Please… please, Demyx. All I wanted was to be with you…" I didn't think Luxord could hear him, but I tried to block the sound from my own mind, as I slammed my fingers on a string, and plucked as hard as was feasible to keep with the tune. The water raged forward. Mr Slater didn't scream. He wanted to go with dignity.

But that wasn't the plan at all, the plan, albeit loose, was certainly going well. The water surged forward, drenching the white marble corridor, froth and bubbles splashing back. Xigbar was forced to levitate to avoid the splash back, even though the water wasn't directed in his direction, whereas Luxord simply allowed himself to get wet, to make sure he could concentrate properly Mr Slater's death.

But that wasn't the plan at all.

As the hundreds of merged water figures rushed at him, he was in for a shock. He'd braced himself for death, regardless of the circumstances, but what he got was not water, but air. The water, rather, was whipping around his body like a mini typhoon, and returning from the u-turn at me, and joined the fountain emanating from an invisible source above my head. It was still going round him, him barely getting wet, and I could even feel the delighted surprise on his face, unable to see it through the water.

Right now, the water level should have been decreasing, but wasn't. In fact, the water wasn't even moving! Unaffected by gravity, the previous momentum of the water was irrelevant also, and stayed where it was. I turned round, hoping Luxord and Xigbar hadn't caught on, but they weren't moving either, despite the water almost lapping up to the Gambler of Fate's knees. I flipped my head back round once more, and saw Mr Slater gliding through the still static liquid, as though it were nothing but a funny coloured air.

He approached me, a wide grin, but also a look of utter miscomprehension etched across his striking features.

"What did you do?" he asked, hugging me in a tight embrace, and kissing my neck. I pulled away, quickly, though.

"I don't know. The water avoiding you was me, but I don't know what on earth is happening now." I confessed, furtively glancing to see whether or not my old colleagues were moving, yet. They weren't. Their eyes were unblinking, and I knew they couldn't see or hear. "You need to leave, as soon as you can. I'll make them go, and distract Xigbar from the portal. You can return here in a week's time, and be safe. You'll have to stay here, because if you are seen or if I am caught with you, we are both for the chop. When I get my heart back, I'll-" The tip of Mr Slater's right forefinger glowed, and I gasped. He touched my chest with it, delicately, and I felt inexplicable warmth all over and all inside.

"A heart…" said Mr Slater. "Come here the moment you're done throwing Luxord and Xigbar of the scent. We can stay here forever, then. And then we'll find that girl, and return _her_ heart, too." As if to back up his proposal, another finger began to sheen with gold, but I shook my head.

"No. I'm sorry, Mr Slater. I won't love you with this heart. I know it's his. I know it's Luxord's. I will love you as Luxord loved you. He did not love you at all, and the whole purpose of getting my heart _is _to love you." He looked down, so I grabbed one of his hands, and held it with one of mine, another on my chest. "But I will keep it safe. And when Luxord gets his new heart, he can choose between them."

He smiled.

"How do I get out?" He asked. I don't know how I knew the answer.

"Their portal barrier won't be effective now, but the moment you go, they will awaken. They won't remember anything."

"And we have until they do?" He asked, and I nodded. He reached forward, wrapped an arm across my back, and one lower across my front, and pushed me back. He held me, and leaned over, kissing me on the lips, and I answered his passion with a little of my own.

The amount of time we spent there could have been a minute. It could have been an hour. It mightn't even have taken place within time. But it was perfect. And I wanted more, the moment our now wet lips parted, even though I'd had more than enough. He whispered his farewell into my ear, but it was there I realized. I wouldn't see him for a long time. A single tear trickled down one of my cheeks, but he caught it, with a finger lying in wait on my face, and returned to the typhoon end of the hall.

How I remembered where we were both standing, I don't know, but I did, and through a choked voice, directed both he and I to stand in the correct place. He waved at me, and summoned a portal. The moment it was gone, the waters began again, and I picked up the exact moment in the song, a slow '_rall_' that decreased in speed progressively. I forced a kind of twisted grimace onto my face, as both Luxord and Xigbar approached me, both with words of comfort, congratulations, and in the case of the latter, clapping me on the back.

I pretended to relish in it, as they took me back to the sustained portal like a victorious gladiator, and back to the World that Never Was.

I went straight to my room. I lay on the waterbed, crying for a timescale beyond my measure. Suddenly, something occurred to me. I still had that warm glow in my chest, despite the hollow feeling that joined it. Standing up, I crossed the room to the briefcase given to me by Mr Slater. I unfastened the clips, and opened it. I pointed my index finger inside, and allowed the warmth to make way for the hollow numbness, and leave me, through my finger. It did so, and a golden light shimmered over the velvet lining of the case, forming a golden entity I knew to be a heart…

Before I made the mistake it seemed I almost certainly would, I slammed the case up, and buckled it, thinking desperately of what to do with it.


	18. Heart Adrift

I was alone. I'd requested that Xigbar had left the portal to the sanctuary open just a little longer. He'd not seen the harm, so here I was. I was standing in the closet area, looking at my shelf, and simply taking the clothes of them, and the accessories, and shoving it into a black bin bag – I'd put them in my own wardrobe, but there was more to it than 'clothes'. I was wearing Organization robes, but on my feet were the pair of glinting brogues given to me by you know who… They were the last things of him I could keep on me at all times as part of the Organization again, without giving myself away.

All had readmitted me to the Organization with awaiting arms since Mr Slater's 'death', with the exception of the newest member, a striking blond I'd seen once before, by the name of Larxene. I'd explained the situation to Luxord, and without much persuasion, he got us both posts at The Castle That Never Was, and Marluxia and Larxene had swapped positions with us, lest any unpleasantness occur between the latest arrival and me.

This was another thing: Luxord and I had grown rather close, almost as we were before. He was the one who'd persuaded Xigbar, he was the one who got my new job in the Organization, and relocated it away from the Savage Nymph for me. He was the one who'd permitted me to wear my brogues rather than the boots, accepting the feeble excuse of 'they are more comfortable'. He was the one behind me, right now, without me knowing, not making a sound.

I spun into him, as I turned to return to the portal, and gasped. He pointed at the bag, his eyebrows rising, inquisitively.

"What's with the clothes?" he asked, quietly.

"Mr Slater gave them to me," I said, truthfully. I tried to at least half-lie, rather than just splurge great flabby falsities up his nose. "Shame to waste them, do you not think?"

"Indeed." He concurred, and I breathed an internal sigh of relief. "Come, we have another large heartless to find together: the Phantom."

* * *

I was alone, adrift, sitting on the turbulent sea, manipulating the waves to be buoyant. I'd explain properly if I understood properly. I was on Organization orders, in this weird oceanic world, where there was just a small port, a mythical island and a whole lot of water. That's why I'd been assigned to it to find the Grim Reaper, another massive heartless, and, surprise, surprise: Luxord was my partner. We were still good friends, but no more.

I wasn't truly on Organization business. I was taking a detour, not unlike when I met Mr Slater for the very first time, almost a year and a half ago. I had the briefcase with me. I hadn't opened it since last I closed it, the same day I returned to the order of – back then – twelve. Another guy had joined since then, Roxas. He was nice, but violent, and more Axel's friend than mine.

I was drifting, very slowly, toward a small spit of land off the coast of nowhere. This was deliberate. I needed to get rid of the briefcase: I hadn't been able to draw my eyes from it, and was worried I would get tempted to take the heart for my own. I had not started this test so I could cheat with Luxord's old answers. It was for me to do.

I climbed onto the tiny beach, carrying the case, a pair of chains, and my shoes: they were no dirtier than the moment I'd been first given them, even if slightly more used. They weren't going to get manked up now.

There was a small rock formation in the centre of the beech, and, using the chains, I attached the case to a loop in the rock, eroded by the waters: the loop remaining was a different, firmer rock. I tested it, by shaking it, and locked the chains with the padlock, wrapping around the case and through the handle. Pulling, to make sure it would last, I decided to take five, and returned to my floating sanctuary in the sea.

I wasn't alone for long. Luxord appeared from a portal next to me, and stood on the water held steady by me.

"Hey." I greeted, and he nodded curtly to me.

"Have you seen Mr Slater?"


	19. Stop 'n' Go

"Have you seen Mr Slater?" he asked me. I could feel the blood rush from my face. I hadn't seen him, but I hadn't stopped thinking about him, since we said goodbye.

"No. Why would I have? I killed him!" I said, all too quickly.

"I know what happened." He said, quietly. Silence. I knew I couldn't overpower him, so I didn't fight.

"So what happens now?" I asked, preparing for the worst. But I needn't have worried.

"I won't tell Xemnas." He said, plonking down, next to me.

"How did you find out? How long have you known?" I enquired, legitimately curious.

"Ever since - I made it happen." He replied, simply. I stopped time. I let him escape, and told you how he should. He gave you my heart, which you came here to dispose of."

"Not dispose of!" I cried indignantly. "Mr Slater wanted you to take the heart back, right? Well, he wanted me to take it instead, so I could go back to those rooms and stay with him. But I wanted to do it as me, and get a heart to know I loved him, not with your heart as you, and ever since, I've wanted to go to his place, just to say hello, but it would be cheating. So I came here, to tie it away, and then you could come and get it if you wanted later on. Because that's what he really wanted. Why did you help him go?"

Luxord sighed heavily, and answered.

"When you're a nobody, you have feelings, you just forget what they're like: that's why you need to get a heart, to test your love." He began. "But Xemnas and Vexen have forgotten completely, and I, out of fear, took their side in the argument, when they jealously snubbed you off. But I hadn't forgotten the difference between right and wrong. That was wrong, and I freed Mr Slater as an apology. Ever since, it's been eating me away, so… I came to tell you."

The skies were now black, and cloudless. The moon was full.

We talked about things. Like how guilty I felt for Larxene, after her death and inability to be restored to her heart, and how nobody knew how Roxas was bearing up: he'd left little over a week ago…

"I don't want that heart." Luxord had randomly brought it up again. I shrugged.

"You don't have to have it." I said. "But you're more than welcome to take it if you'd want. I know I don't want it. Just promise me… you'll consider it."

I was lying down. I don't remember when it happened, but it was, and Luxord was laying on top of me, leaning over to my mouth, his lips forward…

"I promise." I felt the rough texture of his moustache against my chin as he moved in. I liked it. But he looked guilty. "Are you okay with this?" He asked, rolling off, back onto the static sea.

"Yeah. Right now, I don't know what I feel for you. Love? Passion? 'Wow, he's got a nice moustache'? I don't know what I feel for Mr Slater, either. But it's different. You're not the same. You can't replace him, and he'll never be like you. And that's the only way I'd have it." He smiled, and rolled onto me again. "Be gentle…"

I woke up in Luxord's room. Oops.

There was a Heartless battle in Hollow Bastion. Roxas's impostor, or alter ego, or whatever was going to be there, undoubtedly. It was my mission to make him remember who he was. I waved 'bye' to a very, very tired Luxord, and returned to my room, to get dressed: shirt, trousers, coat, and brogues. All the usual stuff.

Meeting Xigbar, a close friend of mine, now, he told me that Roxas was just by the bailey in Hollow Bastion. I grinned to my friend, bid him a jokey salute, and set about restoring Roxas, and summoned a portal to take me there.


	20. Nothing Fades

I emerged from the portal, right as the Roxas guy and his two goons arrived. Nice one, Xigbar.

"Hey: you guys are lookin' lively!" I didn't want to have to fight him again.

The goons had a pop at me, but it was the middleman I was after. But he wanted some as well.

"Didn't we catch you messing around in the Underworld? How'd a wimp like you get into Organization XIII?" Yeah. Nice retort, kid. I pranced around, sarcastically scared. I was tired after last night, and a bit ratty.

"You shouldn't judge anybody by appearances." I warned him, but didn't feel comfortable. Roxas was always a vicious fighter, and if we had to fight, I wasn't going to be helped by the fact there was three of them. "I told them they were sending the wrong guy…" They weren't really listening. They were in a huddle, probably saying something mean. Oh well. But then, I caught the term 'no hearts' from one of the goons, and decided to give him a piece of my mind. "I _do _have a heart!" I informed him, my mind still on the briefcase under the sea. "Don't be mad…"

"You can't trick us!" I was absolutely infuriated. Roxas and I were never best buds, but this was annoying.

"Silence, traitor." Roxas betrayed the Organization and would get his comeuppance. Shame they'd picked the wrong guy.

I drew my sitar, and hammered on some notes, and they dodged and ducked as the water forms hurtled at their bodies. But they had the advantage over Mr Slater: they were three, and Roxas managed to sneak around the back of me, and got a cheap shot in. On the floor, I had no defence, and they repeatedly struck me, until they needed to no more. They allowed me to suffer my fate.

I climbed unsteadily to my feet. There was a fizzy feeling. My sitar vanished. "No way!" I was fading, bits of blackness and water dissolving in the air or slipping to the ground. I gripped my head, and fell to the floor again.

That was it. So close.

I'd nearly got my heart back.

But I hadn't.

I wasn't thinking of Mr Slater.

I was looking ahead.

To the future. And to nothing.


	21. Veritable Maesltrom

_The news travelled quickly. Saix informed the remaining members of the Organization as he checked up on them on his rounds. None of them took it quite the same way as the blond man with the bronzed skin and many silver earrings. Whilst most of them said it was a shame, or whatever, Luxord said nothing. He was back at that world in Demyx's stead, and had just finished searching for the Grim Reaper._

"_Luxord…" muttered the shorter of the two hooded nobodies._

"_Saix." Responded the other, giving nothing away._

"_Demyx has perished at the hands of the Keyblade Bearer at…" but the taller man was walking into a portal, and onto the beach. Saix let him go._

_He teleported to a hidden Island, Isla De Muerta. There was a tool here that might help him... There they were: in a cavern with a gaping hole in the roof, through which moonlight poured, bathing a chest gleaming with gold in a silvery light. _

_He headed forward, to take the chest, but someone else, in the world's native clothes, was already there. He cleared my throat, as his long strides took him to the other, and he turned around and backed away, as the hooded man closed in. He drew a pair of very large playing cards in response to the other man's sword being drawn. _

_The filthy man, with his long wet brown hair and grubby clothing, laughed, but for less than a second. He was weak: with a slight twirl, I swung one round face onto him. The joker of the deck ignored air resistance, and as it made contact, he fell into the picture. His face took shock, and he moved around his two-dimensional one by one third meter realm, trying to push his way out, to no avail. He picked him up, laughing cruelly. _

_This was the only thing that made him feel even a little better after my bad news. And relishing in it, he picked up the card in one hand, and two of his miraculously appearing Gamblers lifted the heavy chest of the medallions, and carried it outside. They quickly headed through the narrow tunnel, with its holes showing off a healthy amount of moonlight._

_Outside, he saw the man's just off the coast, accessible only by the tiny rowing boa tethered to a miniature pier. With a snap of his fingers, more nobodies, dusks and creepers too, this time, manifested all over it, and giving them a moment to buckle under my attack, teleported to it myself. There were some people who'd jumped overboard with some massive splashes, and one or two corpses, even, on the deck, but a healthy portion was still alive, and battling his force. They all jumped at his sudden appearance, and as he held up the card, they all shouted "Mr Turner!" and "Will" out._

"_If you wish to end up like this man: continue to fight. If otherwise, jump overboard now." The hooded man called. They didn't need telling twice, and most simply legged it. The few remaining were simply struck down by the sheer pressure of the small army, and the rest were thrown overboard by dusks. The card's captive, he needed, though, was spared._

_He left it on the rail of the ship, and allowed Will – as he'd learned his name as -to return to his old form, but he wasn't looking well, and couldn't move, even once freed. He didn't care anymore. He'd seen the Keyblade Bearer board the pirate ship, but it would be constantly moving, and might easily miss it by teleport. With a ship like this, however, he might easily attract the young boy's company, but needed to sail it first._

_In his time at Castle Oblivion, Luxord had learned how to read both hearts and memories. Closing his eyes, he focused in on the memories of the injured man. His childhood, mysteriously appearing on the ship was uninteresting, but later on, as he began to sail one, he slowly concentrated on the remembered thoughts, and summed up what was on the boat, how it was used, and what it did once used, too. The nobodies took stations around the ship, and prepared it for sail, hoisting anchor and other piles of whatnot. Next, I checked his heart…_

_Someone was searching for him. A young woman, named Elizabeth Swann, with whom he'd spent his childhood, and was in love with, was coming straight to the Isla de Muerta to rescue him. Sweet, but not what the tenth member of Organization XIII was interested in. But then, the name of the pirate ship became apparent in the thoughts: Black Pearl. The Keyblade Bearer's ship. The nobodies were ordered to sail in the direction of the pining heart, and soon, after a near miss with a minute island with bits of rock, they were within range. However, the cannons on the Interceptor were not up to those of the Black Pearl. Mr Will Turner's memory told him so._

_How convenient that he'd found the Grim Reaper, then. As the ships pulled next to each other, he hid in one of the cabins, and summoned a portal for when the time was right. Listening out for them helping the wounded man back onto their boat he stepped into it, and materialized on the deck of the ship, taking the chest of medallions with him._

"_Don't remember inviting you." If the Gambler of Fate had thought Will (being helped into the storeroom by the woman) was dirty, this pirate was indeed more than something else. The Keyblade Bearer, and the two ugly morons accompanying him looked at the hooded figure with utter distaste._

"_So it was the Organization!" said the boy, glaring at me. I chose to ignore their banter._

_"The Darkness of men's hearts - drawn to these cursed medallions; and this Heartless - a veritable maelstrom of avarice:" Off the boat, the Grim Reaper appeared from the waters, swinging its axe menacingly at the pirates. "I wonder, are they worthy to serve Organization XIII?" he asked rhetorically, meaning that there was indeed going to be a fight. The filthy pirate responded, asking whether they had to, but he insisted that they needed to._

_As was the plan, the Grim Reaper was brought down quickly, by the combined efforts of the Keyblade, a goon's shield and the other's magic, and the pirate's revolver, and it sank to the waters again. However, immediately after its defeat, he called "Parley!" and they were forced to bargain with him. How useful scanning the memories had been._

_They bargained over the medallions, but Luxord, with his hood now drawn back, finished negotiations._

_"I just want a few... for the memories!" A couple of Gamblers jumped aboard, and pinched medallions, and five were taken, one dropping one into the oceans. As the Grim Reaper, having caught it, rose from the salty depths once more, and blasted them onto the Interceptor with a gust of powerful wind. The nobodies changed ships rapidly, and moved to the below-deck on the Pearl. Instantly, Luxord cried "FIRE!" relishing in his revenge. He sent the nobodies with medallions to lounge around the islands, and the Grim Reaper to the port, and with that, returned to the World That Never Was._


	22. Post Mortem

He slowly ascended the winding passage up to the Proof of Existence. He'd had his revenge on the Keyblade Bearer, but still... what was he feeling? He had no way of knowing. Not without a heart.

_By sheer luck, Luxord was surprised by one of his gamblers appearing. Floating near to it, was a ruined black leather briefcase, with a thick chain tied around it to prevent it from opening, as well as one of the cursed medallions._

_**I found this, my liege.**_

He took the case from the Gambler, and dismissed the nobody immediately. The curse could not work if one of the medals was taken from the world. He looked at the case closely. It might have once been of expensive leather, but it had been battered and rushed about by seawater, presumably, considering where it was found, and that it was drenched. As he held it, he felt inexplicable warmth. His feelings for Demyx, he could understand them. But there was also someone else floating around alongside the mulleted musician It was the heart that Mr Slater had given to Demyx, who'd hidden it away for him.

_He summoned a portal, to take him to the Proof of Existence. Demyx had visited his room with the heart... maybe the door would remember? _

_He held the case to the door, but there wasn't much door left. It had been shattered, as they always were, when Demyx had been killed. The case was held to the largest remaining part of the door. It glowed golden, and the portal slowly opened... _

_He crouched down, and crawled through the tiny part of the stone portal still intact. He found myself inside a circular room with a blue decoration. There was a small pond-like feature in the centre, with a waterbed floating on it. He took a look around. Just in case Demyx had returned, he told himself. Part of him knew that Demyx never could. Tired, and emotionally drained after many years without, I lay upon the bed, and my eyes slowly closed._

_He woke up, but I didn't know how long he'd been asleep. He pulled myself up, and stood up sharply, carefully hopping up to the dry surface of the floor._

_Just outside the wardrobe, he noticed, was a cardboard box. Out of curiosity, he opened it, and found an array of pieces of jewellery, accessories, and multiple pairs of shoes. He didn't know why, but he pulled off his own pair of boots, and pulled a pair of brogues identical to those that Demyx had requested to wear out, and quickly laced them up: they were a little large, and as he stood up again, his feet slipped around in them. It was a sort of... feeble tribute to him, because he could do nothing else._

_Suddenly, he had an overwhelming desire to break open the case. To get his heart. That's what Demyx had wanted. He drew a die from nothingness. It floated at the tips of his fingers, spinning rapidly, and he raised it up high, suspended in air, and brought it sharply down upon the chain. There was a chink in one of the links, and he repeated it until he was able to pull away the chain._

_He opened the briefcase, and was exposed to a bright golden light, that flooded around his body winding round and sifting through his clothes and skin. The warmth intensified. He understood what he was feeling..._

_He was no longer with the Organization. But maybe... when he called it, a Gambler still came. On his orders, it shifted its appearance to duplicate that of Luxord, facial expression and clothing, too._

"_Stay in my room. It will remain open. Stay there unless ordered to do something by Saix or Xemnas. If you fight, lose." Without waiting for a response, he summoned a portal to a place he'd not been for over a year. _


	23. Heart and Seek

_He stepped forward into the room. The portal made as little noise as his feet, and he gazed around the white room, as clean as he'd left it. A suited figure he recognized as Mr Slater sat slouching on the bed. Despite himself, Luxord couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been there for: he had never ever seen Mr Slater slouch._

_Not wanting to preserve his awkwardness, the hooded Luxord cleared his throat sharply, and Mr Slater's head flipped around to see the figure in Organization clothes, and immediately, the ghost of his misery made way for a carnival of joy over the thirty-something year-old man's mouth, and he jumped to his feet, and literally ran over the white marble to embrace his long lost love in a tighter than tight bear hug._

_"Demyx!"_

_"…Not quite…" Mr Slater jumped back, horrified, as the blond man pulled back his hood. "Disappointed?"_

_"Yes." The slightly older man was making no promises. "Where is Demyx?"_

_"Dead. Killed by the Keyblade bearer." Mr Slater swore. Another first. "How are you, James?" No reply. Not even at the mention of the man's first name did he react; he just stood there, blankly for a few minutes._

_"Why are you here?" he mumbled, slumping back onto the bed._

_"I thought you ought to know."_

_There was another long silence._

_"What happens now?" Asked Luxord, sitting next to his old friend on the bed, wrapping an arm around him as silent tears trickled down his face. Still nothing._

_"I want him back…" whispered Mr Slater, but Luxord heard._

_"I do too, James." Mr Slater was not best pleased._

_"How can you say that?" his voice was forceful, and any interruptions from Luxord would have cost him dearly. "How can you possibly say that when you went to such efforts to keep him from me, from happiness?" he was now roaring in Luxord's face. "If it wasn't for him, you'd have no one here to console in you, and yet you broke his heart! You shattered him, you tore him up! Why? Because you were scared. Too scared to love him!"_

_Luxord hung his head._

_Yet another period passed when no one spoke. But then, suddenly, a golden glow shimmered through the room with no light source._

**_"Luxord… Mr Slater…"_**

_"Demyx?" they asked, together._

**_"Yeah… I only have a few minutes, as long as I had Luxord's heart."_**

_Luxord held his gloved hand over his old friend's mouth to stop him from interrupting._

**_"I just want to say… I had a good run. I thank you both for what I had._**

**_I just wish you'd let yourselves have the same._**

**_Mr Slater… it was Luxord who rescued you, the last time we met._**

**_Luxord… Mr Slater wanted you to have the heart for so long… please…"_**

_Luxord interrupted, reaching out into the air, as though to seek Demyx._

_"I have it…"_

**_"Thank you."_**

_Mr Slater spoke this time._

_"What happens… after-?"_

**_"When you die?_**

**_You kept enough secrets from me, sir._**

**_I think you should be kept in suspense for a while yourself."_**

_The voice was playful, and, despite their tears, both Luxord and Mr Slater couldn't help but pass a sorrowful chuckle._

**_"I think that's me over…"_**

_"No…"_

_"Please…"_

**_"I love you both, but neither the same way._**

**_I don't need a heart to know."_**

_"I know…"_

_"Stay…"_

_The glow faded, and both men hugged the other tight. There was no noise other than their sobbing and sniffing for almost half an hour. Eventually, they broke apart._

_"Luxord? Though, I guess I should, now, call you-"_

_"I'm a different man to who I was, James." Their voices were soft, and passionate. Both pairs of eyes were gleaming with potential tears, and both mouths barely opened. "I think I need a different name."_

_"What, then?"_

_"Demyx."_

_There was, again, silence._

_Almost an hour later, Mr Slater enquired._

_"What did we have, Lu… Demyx?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"Did it break, or did we lose it with your heart?"_

_"It didn't break, but this is a different heart."_

_Mr Slater was enraged._

_"Didn't you listen to what he said? It doesn't matter about the heart; it doesn't matter about whether or not you have one! So long as you don't lose sight of it, you can't lose!"_

_After a while, Luxord stared his blue eyes into the grey ones, just as Demyx had all those years ago._

_"I shouldn't have run."_

_"I shouldn't have let you."_

_The two heads closed in. The two mouths opened wide, and closed in perfect synchronicity around the others lips._

_It wasn't perfect. It wasn't supposed to be._

_It was wet._

_And that's how Demyx would have wanted it._

And that's how I did like it.


	24. Note from the Author

Well… there's your lot.

Did you enjoy it as much as I did writing?

It's my first finished fanfic, and most certainly didn't turn out as planned.

Originally, Mr Slater was going to be a 'baddie', but then the love scenes with Demyx and he seemed too good to be phony, but then the same happened to Luxord who was going to be the next baddie.

I apologise for the wait on the last chapter, but I did, in fact, give up on it at one point, worried I'd be unable to finish it.


End file.
